Days Like These
by sellthelie
Summary: FREDHERMIONE: The thing you want the most, is often in the most unexpected place. DEATHLY HALLOWS COMPLIANT. Big Time.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Days Like These  
**By:** mandy-jg  
**Rating:** K+ (May Change)  
**Pairing:** Fred/Hermione  
**Warnings:** Character Death  
**A/N:** SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS. I was going to post this as a complete story, but then I realised that the other story I started for 11reasons livejournal wasn't happening at all, and this could work in it's place. So here it is, the first part. Part "now", part flashback. That's how the whole thing will evolve.  
**Prompt:** Sleep

**Days Like These**

She sat at the end of the bed, her hands resting together in her lap. Her robes, hanging pressed upon the back of the door. The noises outside the door very clear, but muted. They were carrying on as they would any morning, having breakfast, getting dressed. It was anything but an ordinary morning, they all knew it, they just chose to pretend that it wasn't. Delaying those thoughts, those feelings till the last possible moment, when the ever present reality would make itself known. It loomed just there, hidden out of sight, ready to appear at any moment.

A glance at the clock reminded you that not everyone was home; the empty space at the dinner table, that would never be filled by him again; or the air that used to be filled with laughter, was void of all joy.

They were all guilty of it, it was easier this way. They hardly spoke, when only extremely necessary did words pass their lips. It was too hard, what could they say to each other? Everyone felt it, this emptiness. The loss of one, was so huge, even in a full house, the lack of him was felt. Their faces all looked the same, there was relief to know that now, finally they were safe. That safety, had come at a price though. One that they would never have chosen to pay.

Everyone had lost something, or had come so very close to. It was part and parcel of war, they all knew it. She just never thought they'd have to pay, a family that gave so much, without question, without asking why. If you needed them, they were there, even when you didn't ask for help, they would. It was who they were. She thought that after what happened to Bill, and then what happened to George, that their fee had been paid, nothing else would happen. How wrong they were.

After days where they had said goodbye to the others they had lost, it was their turn. Their turn to say goodbye. No matter how much time had past since they lost him, she still wasn't ready. No matter how much she had become used to these things, this was going to be different.

This was someone she loved, and not in the periphery kind of way. They had touched her in a way that few others had managed, and she wasn't sure that she was ready to let go of them yet.

-

She couldn't sleep, long after Ginny had dozed off, she remained awake. The gentle snores of the Weasleys and Harry didn't encourage her to fall asleep. Shadows moved over the walls of the tent, the noise outside had long died down, but nothing could make her forget what she had seen.

Those Muggles, _innocent_ muggles. Hanging like marionette dolls in the sky, pawns in some cruel game. Why? Because they could, the cowards hid behind masks, frightening children, families, to get their sick pleasure. Of course they run when a real threat appeared, someone who wasn't afraid to hide. That in itself didn't surprise her, attacking harmless people, who had no way of defending themselves; hiding their true identity, of course they would run when someone did what they wouldn't.

Maybe they thought it was someone with real power, someone who wasn't afraid to yield it. She didn't know, but they had left, vanished as quickly as they appeared.

It left her with a queasy feeling, she wasn't naive, she knew there were people who felt that way. She was confronted with them everyday at school, Malfoy and his cronies always saw fit to remind her of her _rightful_ place in the Wizarding world. Not in it. That very easily could have been her, hanging upside down in the air, her knickers on display for all to see. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Hermione rolled over onto her other side, facing away from the windows of the tent. Taking deep breathes, focusing on the movement of each breathe: in and out. Sleep would come, she just had to relax. Just as it seemed to be finally happening, her limbs relaxing, she could feel it coming. She was halfway between asleep and awake, when a sudden noise woke her completely again. Her hand immediately reaching for her wand, the events of the evening made her ensure that it was close to hand at all times.

Someone had knocked over one of the small tables in the main area of the tent, they cursed softly as they righted it.

"Bloody hell," they muttered.

She relaxed as she recognised the voice, Hermione rolled over, and moved out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. Fred jumped slightly from the kitchenette as he spotted her.

"Jeez Granger, I thought you all were asleep," he said, placing a silencing charm on the kettle.

"Impossible, my mind is going a million miles an hour, I doubt I'll be able to sleep at all."

"I know that feeling," he grumbled. "Would you like a cup?"

"Might as well, no funny business?" She asked warily as she sat at the table. The instances of something _peculiar_ happening to someone after they accepted anything edible from either of the twins had steadily been on the rise, and tonight she didn't want to place tester.

"Not tonight, mum took all me goodies," he sighed, with a small smile.

"Thank heavens for that," she chuckled.

He busied himself with making the cups of tea; she liked the way he handled himself, he had a very relaxed manner about him. Nothing was rushed, there was a quiet confidence in what he was doing. It was slightly disarming to watch him at ease like this, in all the time she had spent with the twins, they had done nothing more than frustrate her; aggravate her. They knew if they niggled her enough she would fight back, and all they wanted. She knew she should just grit her teeth, and ignore them. Those teasing voices though, that slight smile, it always got her, she reacted.

"Here ya go," he said, placing a steaming cup in front of her.

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully, placing her hands around the sides, soaking up the heat.

He sat down opposite her, cradling his own cup. "So why can't you sleep?"

"Too many thoughts," she said.

"You? Too many thoughts, impossible," he scoffed.

"Haha," she said without malice. "It's just been a big day, what with coming here, then the tournament, and we can't forget the after party."

"Pretty full on that's for sure," he admitted.

"Rather scary," she said quietly.

"Were you..."

Hermione picked up her cup, and drank quickly, not looking at Fred. Determinedly looking at the picture hanging on the wall behind him.

Placing a hand on the cup, he pulled it down, "Hermione? Were you, were you scared?"

She took a few moments, and then looked at him. She nodded slightly, "it was a bit scary. They are awful people, and they were after people like me. If they'd found me, well there is no way I could have defended myself against them, Petrificus Totalus can only do so much."

"No," he said vehemently. "You, are very capable, and industrious. I have no doubt that you could have managed to get yourself out of harms way if it came to that."

"Maybe--"

"No maybes," he stated. "You would have."

Hermione smiled slightly at his belief in her, no matter how misguided she deemed it to be.

They sat there for a little while longer, not saying anything. Just drinking their teas, before parting to go to bed, in preparation of the dawn rising that Mr Weasley had planned. It was only when she was finally nodding off, did she realise.

She never asked Fred what was keeping him awake.

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Days Like These - Part Two**

The smells wafted upstairs, belying the circumstance. Making it almost seem like a normal day, when in fact there wasn't anything normal about it. It was a normal event, some people had been to more than they could count. Hermione herself over the last week had been to numerous, but this was different. It was time to say goodbye, to a friend, to a loved one; to someone who shouldn't be gone. Her black dress robes had been worn many times over the last week. Each time had been harder than the last, it wasn't something that got easier. The knife struck a little deeper, the hole a little bigger. Till the pain, the emptiness was all consuming. It took over.

There had been times when she was with Harry, and Ron over the past few months that had felt like the worst time in her life. When it all felt too much, that the burden was too great. But they had made it through, they did what had to be done. The same was ringing true right now. It was a horrible time, but there were things that had to be done.

Hermione had to put those robes on, had to make herself presentable, had to walk down the stairs. It all had to be done, there were no choices to be made here. While there was freedom, and there was living, real living happening all around them. This was the thing she had to do. Her parents were back, that had been both harder and simpler than it should have been. It had been awkward, explaining how and why she had tampered with their minds. Something a good daughter would never do. The rift that had grown during her time at Hogwarts, had only tripled in size from her act; and the only thing that could heal it was time, and Hermione being on her absolute best behaviour.

She moved on autopilot, fingers doing up the many buttons on the robes. Hermione slipped her shoes over her stockinged feet. It was easy to do, it was the same routine as the one she had done the day before. There were just subtle differences. She sat in the chair in front of the mirror, and brushed her hair. Smoothing it back into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were the difference. While sadness was to be expected with the time, some of it had to remain hidden.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and puffy. She didn't charm it away completely. That would have been suspicious, with everyone around her showing the strain. Hermione just didn't want to have to explain to anyone, where they to ask; why she looked like she'd spent the night crying. It would create too many questions, and at this point in time she wasn't prepared to answer them. There would come a time for them to be asked, and she would answer them, if she knew the answers. Things had changed, definitely not in the way she hoped. Today was the huge example. It was not supposed to happen, not for a very long time at least.

The sound of footsteps heading up the stairs pulled her from her reverie. She performed the necessary concealing charms easily, they had become second nature. Putting it off couldn't be done any longer, the day had started, and it was time to greet it head on.

-

She should have known that this would happen. He was a boy after all, and a rather temperamental one at that. He was a do now, and then think about it later kind of person. But when he did think about it later, he tended to gloss over his faults, so it still mostly ended up being someone else's fault. Come tomorrow morning, he wouldn't apologise for how he had treated her, or the things he had said to her. There may be twinges of remorse, he would tread carefully around her; but there would be no words of apology. And she expected nothing more.

That wasn't to say she wouldn't appreciate an apology. There had been moments over the past few years that had been embarrassing. Growing a tail in her second year stood out clearly, and just a few weeks ago when Malfoy had charmed her teeth. This was different though, those were magical, it felt different. They had been accidents. Maybe not on Malfoy's part, but she hadn't been the intended. In this case though, she was. The way he had spoken to her, in front of so many people. Whether it had been out of anger, or jealousy, it had still cut through to the bone.

This was supposed to have been such a wonderful night. It was her first dance, and a popular boy had asked her. It was a dream come to life. She was supposed to be happy. Instead she was sitting on the stairs all by herself, crying because her best friend was a prat. Try as she might though, she couldn't find the urge to move. She didn't want to walk past everyone who had no doubt seen her crying on the steps. The ball seemed to be quieting down, people heading in different directions to their individual dormitories. Hermione knew she would have to move soon, curfew could not be far away.

With her head resting on her knees, she heard someone sit down behind her. Willing them to move away, and leave her be.

"I hope you aren't crying over my idiot brother," they said. "Please, tell me it's because your feet hurt?"

"Can it be both?" She said sadly.

"Possibly," he down moved down onto the step beside her. "He doesn't deserve them though. It was vintage Ron, complete and utter drivel."

"So you heard?"

"I doubt anybody in the hall didn't hear it."

Hermione groaned, "great."

"Don't worry," Fred said with a smile in his voice. "I'm sure there are more than a few stories that will be doing the rounds of the school tomorrow. The dramas of a couple of fourth years will hardly raise an eyebrow."

"You think so?"

"Of course. I for one, am very interested in how Roger Davies got grass stains in the middle of winter, on the back of his robes."

"So I'll be the boring news?"

"I would think so."

She breathed deeply as she sat up properly. "Did you have a good time tonight with Angelina?"

"We had fun," he said dismissively. "It was good to come with a friend."

"Why aren't you with her now? Is she in the bathroom?"

"Nah, she went off with the girls earlier."

"Oh," she looked over at him. "I thought you too were, close."

"Not that close Granger."

"Right. Sorry."

"It's fine, we both missed out on our first choice tonight," he said glumly. "Easier to come with a mate than all alone."

"I don't think I could have come by myself."

"Well you had Viktor didn't you? And I daresay he wasn't the only hopeful one."

She shrugged at that, she knew she wasn't the ideal to many boys. Neville only asked her probably because he was too shy to ask anyone else. And Ron's invitation? That was purely by a boy who didn't want to embarrass himself by coming alone. Viktor she didn't really understand, maybe it was because she didn't treat him like all the others did. Fawning over the Quidditch star. She treated him as Viktor, not as Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's star Seeker.

Fred cleared his throat beside her. "Well, I have been very rude Granger."

"How so?"

He stood and moved to the now deserted landing below them, and rather pompously held out a hand. "May I have the pleasure of a dance Miss Granger?"

"Now?" She said startled, "it's very late."

"Never too late for a dance," he grinned, waving his hand in front of her. "Come on Granger, I turn into a pumpkin soon, and it's not going to be pretty. A dance beforehand?"

She smiled in spite of herself, and took his hand. Hermione stepped down to him, leaving her shoes behind. They moved together fluidly to the soft music coming from the hall. "You are quite a good dancer Fred."

"Don't sound so surprised, McGonagall gave me private lessons."

"Well that explains it then," she laughed.

"She's a very accomplished witch."

"Ah, was she your first choice?" She smiled up at him.

"Yes," a pained expression on his face. "Sadly, it would appear that I'm too young for her. She has broken my heart."

"Poor Fred."

"Poor me indeed," he moaned dramatically. "So I am now seeking comfort in the arms of younger women. Anything to sooth my wounded pride."

Hermione gasped, "Are you using me?!"

"Slightly, but I am hoping that my good looks, and debonair charm with blind you. Is it working?"

"Naturally, I'm due to swoon in your arms at any moment."

"At which point I would take you to my room, and have my wicked way with you."

"Of course."

"A brilliant plan."

"There is however fault in it."

"How so? My devilish plan is faultless."

"What if, perchance, I myself, was also using you?"

"You saucy wench! Now why would you treat a fine, upstanding gentlemen such as I, in such a cruel and callous way?"

"Well maybe I was feeling sad and alone, and I needed someone to come and cheer me up. You are purely a means for me to regain some lost happiness."

"Well then Miss Granger, I hereby give you permission to use me anytime you like."

-


	3. Chapter 3

**Days Like These - Part Three**

The house was quiet as she moved down the stairs. It looked like the Burrow, smelled like the Burrow. It just didn't feel like it anymore, it was almost like the soul had been removed. The heart was the gone, the beat had stopped. Everyone moved as they always had, fighting hard to retain normalcy.

Hermione herself struggled just as they did, pretending to everyone that she was alright. Fighting to keep her grief hidden away. Questions without answers could be left for another day, a day when her heart didn't feel like a fist was clenching it continuously, and a day when she could answer them. Months ago the hardest thing was keeping it to herself, stopping the physical reaction whenever he walked into a room, resisting the urge to be next to him, remaining cool and calm on the other side of the room.

While pretending had been difficult, nothing had compared to this. She didn't want to speak to anyone, she didn't want to see anyone. She would love to go back to her bed, pull the covers over herself, and ignore everyone and everything. That wasn't on the options list, standing outside the kitchen door hesitating about going in wasn't an option either.

Mrs. Weasley could be heard, bustling around the kitchen. Hermione stood in the doorway, and just watched her for a moment. Her routine was set from years of practising it, she moved around at ease. It looked like everything was in order, pots on the stove top boiled and sizzled, dishes in the sink were rinsing themselves. Mrs. Weasley herself was busy keeping everything in order, including herself. Everything was running perfectly, not a fault to be seen. Hermione knew the signs, she could read them so well on another.

She was keeping her world in order, being careful not to let anything slip; because as soon as that happened, the whole thing would fall to its feet.

"Morning dear," she said as she moved.

"Morning," Hermione said, the _good _part of the greeting had been missing all week.

"Come in," she motioned her forward. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"I'm not particularly hungry today."

"Nonsense, you need to eat," she said, pushing the chair that she had ushered her into closer to the table. "We all need to eat, especially on days like these."

Hermione quickly realised it would be useless to fight her, so she didn't object when the toast was placed in front of her, and the teapot placed beside it. With a pat on her shoulder, she returned to her tasks. Hermione dutifully took a bite of the, and under the watchful eye she chewed, and swallowed it down her dry throat. It was the first thing she had eaten in days, she had found that if she pushed things around her plate enough, she escaped being force fed. There was just little, or in some cases no desire for the _normal _things at the moment.

As she continued to _eat_, Mrs. Weasley kept herself busy, keeping everything running smoothly. Removing a dish of biscuits from the oven, then stirring a pot on top of the stove. She crossed to the other side of the room, and grabbing some serving dishes from the shelf, she placed them next to the stove.

Hermione sat quietly, chewing slowly, figuring the longer she chewed the more it seemed like she was eating. Not that it mattered, Mrs. Weasley had become so focused on her tasks, on keeping herself busy to her pay her any attention anymore. Much to Hermione's relief, so she pushed the plate to the middle of the table. She spooned a few sugars into a cup of tea, she chose to drink rather than eat. The hot liquid soothing her dry throat as she swallowed.

Mrs. Weasley without a thought picked her plate off the table, emptying it's contents into the trash. She was humming as she moved, the sound unfamiliar. Hermione couldn't fault her for what she was doing, or attempting to do. In times like these, they all had to hang onto some semblance of what they had before, no matter how ridiculous it seemed at the time. If Mrs. Weasley wanted to pretend for a little while that her would still revolved as normal. At least before she had to something a mother should never have to do, that was perfectly alright in her book.

She crossed the floor in front of Hermione, two full dishes floating in front of her. A loud crash from upstairs caused her attention to waver, and the dishes fell to the floor as a result. They smashed instantly, pieces of china mixed with the food, it all spreading over the floor. Mrs. Weasley cursed mildly under her breath, crouching on her knees she started to clean it up, picking up the larger pieces.

Hermione got up from the table, moving around it to assist her.

"No need to help dear," she said quietly. "I'll have it cleaned up in no time at all."

"And it will be quicker with my help," Hermione smiled softly, summoning the rubbish bin to them.

"Thank you dear."

Hermione kept her eyes on the mess in front of them, she stopped picking up the pieces when she noticed the tremor in Mrs. Weasley's hand. Her own hand reached for it, and held it tightly within her own. She closed her eyes as she heard the sob, the tears welling up in her own eyes as she heard the first visible sign of her grief. Hermione wrapped her arms around the older witch's shoulders, holding her tight as the tears took over. It was only natural that this would happen, she realised as Mrs. Weasley clung to her. She, _they_ both had been holding it in, keeping it together in front of everyone. But it only took one thing, no matter how small, or unimportant to bring it all to the fore.

A hand pressed against her shoulder, and she looked up to see Arthur looking down at them, an unreadable expression on his face. Wordlessly Hermione stood, pulling herself away from Mrs. Weasley. He instantly moved into her position, holding his wife against him as she mutter unintelligible things through her tears.

She could hear two words though, repeated several times. Hermione could hear them as she left the room, heading to the fresh air outside, the words echoing through her.

_My son._

_--_

Hermione held the jar secure in her hand as she moved through the corridors, students were everywhere in varying degrees of disbelief. She garnered several looks as she walked past them, all of because of her friend who lay in a dreamless sleep in the hospital wing below. They had questions, the how, the why, and they more than likely assumed that she would have the answers. Little did they know, she was just like them. Even knowing the how and the why did little to make her not question it. The signs had been there for months, they'd just been distracted, not looking for them. That tournament had hypnotised them for months, and they were now possibly paying the consequences. A life had been taken, the first of many it would seem, they didn't realise that though. They were locked in some little world where the past was just that, the past. It had become the now tonight, there lives were changed forever, and their future quite possibly ripped away from them. They were too wrapped up in their shock, grief and disbelief to take the time to see that at this point though.

The Common Room unsurprisingly was packed at this late hour, students hadn't even changed into nightclothes despite it being past eleven. They crowded around tables, and the fireplace, talking amongst themselves. No doubt about the same thing. All eyes turned to her as the portrait slammed shut behind her, and the questions instantly started.

"How's Harry?"

"What the hell was he saying down there?"

"I heard him say he's back, who is back?"

"Not, you-know-who?"

"Stop!" George said loudly, standing in front of her, shielding her from their eyes. "Her best friend is in the bloody hospital wing you inconsiderate jerks, the girl needs some bloody peace."

Fred came and stood beside her, "Are you okay Granger?"

She nodded quickly, "I"ll be fine, it's hardly first time he's been in there."

He smiled slightly, "This is different Granger, you know that. How is he?"

"He'll be fine, he's sleeping, and Ron and your mum are going to stay through the night, just in case."

"Why aren't you?"

She ran her fingers around the top of the jar, "I had something to take care of. It's for Harry, so I figured it was important enough to leave him."

"Okay, if you need anything, George and I can help alright?" He whispered, leaning closer to her. "We feel pretty useless up here, listening to these sods muse amongst themselves."

"They just have questions, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will have answers for them soon, and you aren't useless."

He beamed down at her, "Whatever you say Granger. I reckon McGonagall is going to send us all to bed soon anyway, are you going to stay up here?"

Hermione nodded, "I'm useless down there. Harry is sleeping, and I can't stare at those walls anymore." She stared down at the jar, and the small angry beetle inside, running her fingers along the grooves in the side of the glass.

Without warning, two strong arms wrapped around her middle, "Well, we'll be useless together. Come over by the fire," he said, letting her go, only to place an arm around her shoulder. "We will sit here, and talk about something stupid," he sat her down, sitting beside her. "If you want, we can talk about feelings, just as long as you don't start talking about boys you fancy. That's not on the cards for tonight."

"I'm fine, I'd really just like to sleep," she sighed, placing the jar in her pocket.

"You can't sleep yet, because if you do I guarantee, there will be nightmares, or bad dreams of some kind if you do manage to sleep." Hermione knew he was right, she closed her eyes now, and she could picture it. Only it wasn't Cedric that had died, two figures fell to the ground in front of the crowd, and it was Cedric who sat up. Telling Professor Dumbledore that Voldemort was back, and Harry was dead. She knew it wasn't so, but every time she closed her eyes, it was hard to convince herself that it wasn't the case. Especially when it so easily could be.

She didn't realise she was crying till a calloused thumb wiped a tear from her cheek, and a hand placed a tissue in her lap. It was with that simple act that the tears started flowing down her face, continuing as Fred wrapped his arm around her again, holding her as she sobbed.

_

* * *

_


	4. Chapter 4

**Days Like These**

Out of all the changes that had happened over the last week, meal times were one of the more noticeable changes. They used to be full of conversation, of clattering plates, and everyone was happy. They weren't anymore.

They all ate out of habit, to keep the routine going, but there was no talking, and absolutely no acknowledgment of the one that was missing.

The morning after they had all returned to The Burrow, Hermione came down for breakfast, and the chair was gone. She surmised that Arthur had come down early, and removed it, in an attempt to not force it into all their minds. It wasn't as simple as one less chair on the table, or one less place to set. An awfully large presence was gone, someone with an ever present smile, and an easy laugh. You couldn't forget that.

Hermione had become proficient in pretending to eat, grieving as she was, Mrs. Weasley still kept an eagle eye on their eating habits. She would push the food around on her plate, take a small bite at regular intervals, and for all appearances she was eating. There was no appetite in her, the food felt heavy in her stomach, her throat felt like it was constricting when she swallowed. Despite having a little toast earlier, Mrs. Weasley wasn't satisfied, and had piled her plate with scrambled eggs. Just the thought of eating them made her feel like retching.

Beside her Ron didn't have that problem, she wasn't sure if it was just habit, but she couldn't imagine how he could possibly eat so easily.

He wasn't looking at her at all, he'd be scared off in the last few days, their relationship strained more than it had ever been. Hermione was at a complete loss as to what to do, there was too much expectation placed on her, and that was mostly her own fault. There had been moments over the last year where she had thought that things with Fred were never going to work, long sleepless nights in that tent giving her plenty of time to think it over. They were too different, it would be too difficult, Ron would be hurt, but then she realised how wrong all those arguments were.

It didn't matter that they were different, plus most things worth fighting for were difficult, and if Ron really cared for her, then he'd want her to be happy. Hermione never got the chance to tell Fred that she felt the same way as he did, the last time she saw him it was so frantic, with so much going on.

She told herself that she'd tell him after, only after was too late.

Now she was all alone, and had to deal with a best friend that she had foolishly kissed in the heat of the moment, a best friend who was now more than likely thinking that they were at the very beginning of a relationship. He just didn't realise how wrong he was. There wasn't going to be a relationship, not now, Hermione couldn't see one in the future for them either. That path had faded when she had fallen in love with his brother.

Hermione felt terrible for what she was doing to him, treating him so horribly, but it was easier to do it that way. There was no way she could tell him now, not when they were all so lost in their grief, she didn't want to lead him on though. If she pretended that everything was fine, that they were _together_, when it came time to tell him the truth, she was afraid that there friendship would be unable to be saved. A time would come when she could tell him, but it wasn't now.

So whenever he hugged her for more than was the norm for a embrace from a friend, she would pull herself out of his arms, and when he took her hand under the kitchen table, she all but leaped to her feet. Muttering something about needing air, she excused herself and went outside. Hermione didn't need to look back at him to know what expression would be on his face, she'd seen it every day for the past week.

She crossed the lawn to the fence at the back of the yard, leaning against the rails heavily, breathing deeply. It was getting harder every day, she really didn't want to hurt him, but it would hurt him more to know the truth, and to let him do what he was doing.

"You're going to have to tell him Granger," a voice said behind her, Hermione straightened at the familiar voice, her eyes closing as she remembered someone else talking to her with that same tone.

"Not yet, not today," she sighed, running her hand over her eyes. "You know?"

"Of course I do, I suspected something for a long while, and then I heard him that night, we never talked about it though," George said quietly, stepping up next to her. "Never got the chance to."

"But he didn't say my name?"

He barked a little laugh out, "Who would he affectionately call his favourite prefect?"

Hermione smiled, as she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she saw him. "Oh god," she muttered, turning from him quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just, you know what it is."

"I haven't looked in a mirror all week," he whispered, stepping closer to her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She turned into his arms, pressing her face into the soft wool of his coat, "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do anything Hermione," George said softly, tightening his arms around her.

"But if I could bring him back, I'd do it for you in a heartbeat, if I could go back and save him," she cried, looking up at him through her tears. "You need him more than I ever did..."

"We both need him," he wiped the moisture from her cheeks, kissing the top of her head gently. "We both loved him, and he was still taken from us."

"It's not fair, I want him back so much, I want to tell him, I never got to tell him."

"He knew."

"He did?"

"I'm certain he did, after he spoke to you, it's like he knew that it wasn't just him anymore, you were right there with him. He looked a different way, and his smile was brand new, he knew."

Hermione wiped her face quickly, "I still want to tell him, to see his face when I tell him that I love him too. To kiss him, to hear him laugh, I don't know what I'm going to do without him."

* * *

She knew Hogwarts was going to be different this year, but she didn't like this at all, it didn't seem like Hogwarts at all.

The students were different, they carried themselves differently. It was like they were afraid to be themselves, scared of bringing Umbridge and her growing goon squad down on them, it wasn't right. They should be allowed to smile, to laugh in the corridors, and to speak honestly to one another. Harry pretended that his hand didn't hurt, but she could see him stroking the risen flesh occasionally, a dark look passing through his eyes.

Her classes were different, there was a line down the middle it seemed, with the believers on one side, and those that didn't on the other side. The teachers were behaving different as well, with Umbridge and her blasted clipboard in the corner, they were understandably nervous. Hermione wanted to learn though, she needed to hang onto the one thing that Hogwarts had always given her, knowledge. While everything was turning into a weird alternate Hogwarts, and everyone was turning a blind eye to the imminent war, she wanted something solid.

The last class she had, Umbridge had stood in the corner, tutting away and marking Professor Vector's _performance_. Hermione had steadily struggled to contain her aggravation, she wanted to slap the silly little smile off the _bitch's_ face. _But_ she was a Professor, so she had to respect her, and it would do no good for her to join Harry bathing her hand in Murtlap essence.

Hermione was taking the long way back to Gryffindor tower, letting off steam as she complained, and argued in her head. She could see herself slap Umbridge the way she had hit Malfoy two years ago, and the virtual violence felt as good as the real thing had.

She laughed a little as she saw her face as her hand connected with her cheek, the sound echoed through the empty halls. It was a silly little fantasy, but it felt good to hit her, even if she'd never do it.

A hand grabbed her wrist then, causing her to yelp as she was pulled into an empty doorway.

"What's so funny Granger? Threaten to tattle on some more students?"

Hermione sighed as she straightened her robes, "No Fred, and I had a good reason! They can't eat those things, you can't use underclassmen as test dummies."

"They wanted to!"

"That's not the point!" She cried, poking his chest. "They are young, naive, do you realise what you and George are to those first years?"

"Enlighten me," he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"God I hate saying this, but you are _godlike_ to them. You are older, you are charming, and you can seemingly to them, do anything. They look up to you, and you are taking advantage of that."

Fred smiled, "Charming? Didn't know you thought that way Granger, do I charm you?"

"No!" She said quickly, feeling her face heat up. "You annoy me, you drive me crazy, you most certainly do not charm me."

"But you say I can do anything," he said stepping closer to her, forcing her back against the door. "Surely someone who can do anything, can charm you?"

"You can't, I'm resistant," Hermione said firmly. "As far as you are concerned, no charming will happen."

He laughed lightly, stopping when he heard footsteps, pulling them into the dark classroom, letting Malfoy and his friends pass by without noticing them. Waiting till their voices were merely a sound in the distance, he turned back to her, "No charming?"

Shaking her head, "None whatsoever."

"Sorry Granger," he sighed. "Your wrong on this one I'm afraid, there has been some charming."

"No, trust me Fred, you have not charmed me."

He smiled, resting a hand on her arm, Fred leaned down to whisper into her ear, "No, but you charmed me."

"I have not!"

"Oh you have, against my better _brotherly_ judgment, you fascinate me in ways you shouldn't."

"I don't."

"You shouldn't, in spite of there being several other more appropriate, and less complicated girls I could feel this way about, the only one who does is you."

"I can't," Hermione whispered, leaning away from him. "You're just being silly, I'm not the kind of girl that inspires that _nonsense_."

"I think that's exactly why, you aren't like all the other girls."

"We have nothing in common, complete opposites. There has to be a more suitable girl for you."

"There probably is, but there's only one I think about all the time, only one who drives me so bloody crazy."

"You annoy me too, a lot."

"Something in common," he grinned, he brought a hand up to rest on her cheek. "It doesn't have to make sense Hermione, I've stopped trying to get it to. It's just the way it is, and right now I could either be the most stupid boy in this castle, or about to get lucky. What will it be?"

Hermione looked up at him, "Lucky."

"Really?"

"You could never be stupid, but I think I must be," she sighed, shaking her head.

"No, never," Fred whispered, moving his hand under her chin, lifting gently to look her in the eyes. "I don't think this is stupid at all." Her eyes closed as he leaned down, she could feel the gentle puffs of his breath on her lips, before someone whistled in the hall. Fred cursed, "That's George."

"Of course it is," she sighed, her hand pulling his away from her.

"We have some _plans_, that need to be carried out, rather urgently."

"Do I want to know?"

He smiled, "No."

"Then don't tell me, as long as Umbridge gets a little comeuppance I won't interfere."

"And you thought we didn't have anything in common," he laughed quietly. "I think you and I will get along just fine."

* * *


End file.
